


Bagginshield Drabbles

by sailingonstardust



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A lazy morning, Angst, Disney World!au, Erebor AU, Fluff, I'll update the tags as it applies, I'm just going to put any bagginshield drabbles that I write in here as a new chapter, M/M, Nightmares, a mishap on the quest, bagginshield, lazing in the shire, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:03:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingonstardust/pseuds/sailingonstardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Bagginshield drabbles! Some will be fluffy, some may be angsty, some may very well be cracky... I'll update the tags as I add a new drabble.</p><p>And if anyone has any requests, feel free to hit me up! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Trip to Disney World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Thorin and Bilbo get separated in a place that’s easy to get lost in. They need to reunite."

Thorin felt the sweaty palm of Frodo’s small hand in his own and scanned the colorful sea of people before them. “Uncle Thorin?” He heard his nephew’s high voice come from his left side. “Where’s uncle Bilbo?”

                                                     

_That_ was an excellent question. Two minutes ago the man had been standing beside him, demanding that Thorin hand him the map that he had been squinting confusedly at for a good two minutes. It wasn’t his fault that they made Disney World so confusing to navigate. Thorin had already managed to get them lost twice on their way to find Splash Mountain, and he could tell Bilbo was ready to smack him upside the head with the cursed piece of paper.

 

No sooner had Bilbo demanded he hand the thing over than the man had disappeared, seemingly right before their very eyes. Frodo had been trying, in vain, to tell his uncle that they were currently headed towards _Space_ Mountain, not _Splash_ Mountain, when they had looked up to consult Bilbo. The short man, however, was nowhere to be found. Now here the duo stood, hand in hand, unsuccessfully scouring the massive crowd around them for any sign of Bilbo.

 

“Do you remember what he was wearing?” Thorin asked his nephew, and the boy squinted up at him.

 

“Hmm…” Frodo mused, then announced “He was wearing Mickey Mouse ears.”

 

That narrowed it down a lot. It seemed to Thorin that every other park-goer was wearing the dratted ears as well, as if they were all a part of some convoluted cult.

 

Finally sick of searching, Thorin grumbled “Come on.” and tugged Frodo through the throng of people over to a concrete bench. They sat down with an unceremonious _plop,_ the stone uncomfortably warm against Thorin’s legs. The sign above them read _Tomorrowland_ , and the man dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Bilbo’s name.

 

He listened to the _prrrinnggg_ … _prrrinnggg…_ of the phone as he waited for Bilbo to pick up. Finally he heard his husband’s voice announcing “One second… alright. Look up.” Thorin did as he was told and lifted his sweaty head to see Bilbo standing a couple yards in front of them, three ice cream bars in his hands. Thorin smiled and pointed him out to Frodo, who leapt from the bench and into his uncle Bilbo’s arms with an excited squeal.

 

Despite the heat, crowds, exhaustion, and cost, Thorin thought that perhaps the trip to Disney World had been worth it, if only to witness two of his favorite people look so unabashedly happy.


	2. Banana Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is loosely inspired by the song Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson

The rain pattered on the rooftop of the Baggins residence, waking Bilbo up far earlier than he would have liked. Beside him lay his husband, a mass of tangled brown hair lightened by streaks of grey lying on the smooshed pillow. Bilbo snuggled closer to his husband and wrapped his arms around his toned abdomen.

 

Of course the smaller man wanted to go back to sleep; who wants to wake up at eight am on a Sunday? Yet sleep would not come back to him. After what he figured was around ten minutes of lying there with his eyes closed, listening to Thorin’s steady breathing, Bilbo’s stomach growled loudly. So loudly, in fact, that Thorin stirred beside him and elicited a small groan.

 

“Mmm, what time is it?” Thorin questioned in a voice husky from sleep.

 

“Sorry.” Bilbo apologized quickly. “It’s eight. I can’t fall back asleep.”

 

“What was that noise?” The larger man asked as he rolled over to face Bilbo, and he found himself blushing at the tips of his ears as he tended to do when embarrassed.

 

“Um, well, it was my… my stomach. Sorry.”

 

Thorin opened his eyes, then, and a playful smile lighted on his face, making the skin around his eyes crinkle ever so endearingly. “It woke me up.” The man laughed, and Bilbo couldn’t help but grin himself.

 

“I can see that.” Bilbo answered, and then with a sigh he slid out of bed. A Bilbo shaped hole was left next to Thorin, and the man frowned, his mop of hair framing his face like a dark mane.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To make breakfast.” Bilbo answered without turning around. He knew that Thorin would come up behind him in a couple minutes and get in the way anyway, not that he minded. Quite the opposite, in fact.

 

Trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Frodo, Bilbo pulled a cream colored bowl from the cupboard as well as the ingredients necessary for banana pancakes. As he began to mix it all together, he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and a scruffy chin rested lightly upon the top of his head.

 

“Pancakes?” Thorin asked happily, and Bilbo smiled.

 

“ _Banana_ pancakes.” Thorin’s answer was a happy moan, and he began to trail his hands down Bilbo’s front.

 

“You’re very distracting, you know.” Bilbo admonished, but Thorin made no indication of stopping any time soon. “If I burn the pancakes it’s your fault. Imagine what Frodo will say.”

 

“You’re going to tell him that it was my fault seeing as I was groping you and you couldn’t focus on the task at hand?” Thorin teased.

 

“No,” Bilbo returned, “I’m going to say it was your fault for being a distraction when I should be focusing on the very important job of flipping pancakes.”

 

“Mmm, it is rather important.” Thorin murmured in Bilbo’s ear, his hot breath making the smaller man shiver. It also didn’t help that Thorin’s hands were travelling lower and lower, forging a very clear path to his boxers. Pretty soon Bilbo didn’t think he would be able to keep his attention on breakfast at all.

 

Bilbo could feel the heat of Thorin’s hand through his boxer shorts and he gasped when his husband squeezed him, all the while pressing slow, wet kisses to the crook of Bilbo’s neck. The smaller man let out a moan as Thorin nipped at his earlobe, only to be startled out of his reverie by the patter of small feet on the kitchen tile.

 

Bilbo’s eyes flew open and he felt Thorin tense against him as they took in the sight of their nephew with his hair sticking up in a curly brown halo around his head. He wore green pajamas with little acorns all over them and he stood with wide eyes on them. “What’re you doing?” He finally asked in his high voice and Thorin coughed behind Bilbo, who rolled his eyes at his husband’s childishness.

 

“Making banana pancakes. Want some?” Bilbo replied with a smile, and Frodo’s face lit up in a smile.

 

“Yeah!” The boy exclaimed, suddenly very awake. Bilbo often wished he could have that level of energy this early in the morning without a cuppa. Actually, he wished that he could have that level of energy at _any_ point during the day.

 

“Give us a good morning hug first.” Bilbo ordered with a grin as Frodo hugged them each. Thorin bent down to give the boy a kiss on the forehead, but Frodo was too quick. He kissed his uncle on the cheek instead, and Thorin grabbed him and spun him through the air in retaliation.

 

Bilbo smiled fondly as Frodo let out a gleeful squeal and whined when Thorin put him down after only a moment.

 

“You’re getting too big for me to pick you up.” Thorin protested, rubbing his lower back with a sheepish grin.

 

“I know!” Frodo exclaimed excitedly. “I’m taller than Merry now!”

 

“Is that so?” Thorin asked in an impressed tone. “Pretty soon you’re going to be taller than your uncle Bilbo.”

 

“Hmm, we’ll see about that.” Bilbo grumbled and passed two steaming plates of banana pancakes to his two favorite people. As they all sat down at the table to eat, Bilbo found himself wishing that he could keep ahold of this moment forever so that he could live it again, and again, and again.


	3. Nightmares

The midnight nightmares were the worst.

 

Blood and gore were all but forgotten upon waking, but the look on his now husband’s face as Thorin held him above the rampart, threatening to take his life, was burned into his mind forevermore. And for what, an infernal _stone_?

 

Many were the nights that Thorin Oakenshield, king of Erebor, would wake up screaming. Sometimes there were tears, other times there were angry outbursts filled with the destruction of anything breakable nearby. Bilbo said that he had forgiven him, and Thorin let himself believe it. The problem lied in the dwarf not forgiving himself. Not a day went by that Thorin did not feel the weight of all of the lives lost in the Battle of the Five Armies pressing down on him. The weight of the lives that _could have_ been lost pressed upon him as well. His nephews, his closest friends, and the man he loves, all could have been ripped away from him and it would have been

 

all

 

his

 

fault.

 

 His newest nightmares featured the corpses of the dwarven lives lost crawling ever closer and closer towards him as he stood unable to move. When the moaning bodies finally reached him, mouths agape and releasing anguished cries of pain, they would slither their bloodied arms down his throat and press themselves against him as he suffocated, all the while knowing he deserved his fate.

 

Those were the nightmares that scared Bilbo the most; the Hobbit would often wake Thorin up in the middle of the nightmare and the dwarf would simply curl himself around his husband as he breathed in and out, in and out, trying to convince himself that he was alright, that he could breath.

 

But Thorin knew that he would never be alright. All actions have consequences, and now the king of Erebor would have to deal with his.


	4. Thorin's Trousers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bilbo trying on Thorin's trousers

Bilbo stood blushing profusely before the company, wet from head to toe and shaking with the cold wind biting him. There was really no one to blame but himself for his distracted clumsiness, and they all knew it.

 

The company had been traversing through lands dotted with marshes, and it went without saying that no one should wander away from the group lest they wanted to risk falling into a bog and getting themselves and all of their possessions soaked. Bilbo knew this, but he could see quite plainly how weary his pony was. He was grateful that the Dwarves were allowing a small break for the horses as they clomped through this expanse of flat land by taking them by the reins and leading them rather than riding them, but the Hobbit couldn’t help but side eye the luxurious looking grass that lay not three yards away. The least he could do would be to allow Mertal some nice, green grass to eat. He would be careful and quiet; no one would even know they were gone. At least, that’s what he reasoned.

 

He and his pony currently trod along at the back of the company and he quickly and cautiously led the animal away from the group. She followed diligently. Bilbo turned his body to pat her on her nose and as he did, he felt a sudden wetness beneath his toes. With a gasp he fell backwards into a bog, an enormous splash alerting the Dwarves of his foolishness.

 

“Bilbo!” He heard his name called and Bofur, Fíli, and Thorin rushed over to see what had happened.

 

“I’m quite alright.” He assured with a wave of his arms as the trio approached, their looks ranging from amused to worried to angry. He struggled to stand and Bofur helped him up, causing Thorin’s scowl to deepen.

 

“What were you thinking?” Thorin questioned once Bilbo was upright and shivering.

 

“Well,” Bilbo hesitated, knowing Thorin would not approve of wandering from the company simply for his pony. He decided that he did not care, though, and said in a more confident tone, “Mertal hadn’t had nice grass in quite a while and I daresay she deserves it, she is a wonderful animal. So I thought I’d be very careful and let her eat some of this grass, but when I turned to pat her nose I fell into this nastiness.” He gestured to the brown goopy pit he had landed in as he talked, the stench of the thing only now rising up to the Hobbit’s nose.

 

As Bilbo spoke, Thorin’s face softened into a look that was unlike any other the Hobbit had seen on his serious face before. He took it as a good sign and smiled at him, though the effect was lessened by Bilbo’s chattering teeth.

 

“You must be freezing!” Fíli announced, and Bilbo nodded.

 

“I’ll be alright, though. It’s my fault I’m wet, so I suppose I must deal with the consequences.”

 

“Don’t be absurd!” Bofur exclaimed and began to lead the Hobbit back over to the path they were following. “You can wear my extra clothes until yours are dry.”

 

Bilbo opened his mouth to thank the Dwarf but was interrupted by Thorin’s low voice. “He can wear mine.” He insisted, and then muttered “Come on, Bilbo.” when his nephew and Bofur shot him looks that confused the halfling to no end.

 

Though Thorin’s clothing was much too big for the Hobbit, and the trousers kept falling down and the shirt slid off of his shoulders, he thought that that was the first kind thing Thorin had done for him since their journey began. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the Dwarf was warming up to him after all, and the thought put a smile on Bilbo’s face which Thorin hesitantly returned. Warmth spread through Bilbo’s heart and he dared to imagine what it would be like to be the recipient of that smile every day.


	5. Everybody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loosely inspired by the song Everybody by Ingrid Michaelson.

They lay in the grass in the Shire, Bilbo blowing smoke rings with his favorite pipe and Thorin braiding flowers into the halfling's golden hair.

 

 

After most of the restoration of Erebor had been completed, Thorin had insisted that they visit the Shire. Bilbo, of course, was elated. There were many things that he had been in want of ever since he left on the quest with Thorin and Company all those years ago, and besides that he felt that it would be nice to get outside and feel the comforts of home. In fact, they had done nothing but laze around the entire time they were there, and it had done wonders in strengthening their relationship.

 

 

"I believe I gave you that pipe." Thorin smiled, his fingers weaving through Bilbo's soft locks.

 

 

"Mmm." Bilbo smiled, his eyes closed. "It's my favorite."

 

 

"I'm glad to hear it." Thorin grinned lazily.

 

 

Bilbo suddenly had the urge to kiss his Dwarf, and never one to hold back from affection, he did just that.

 

 

Thorin smiled against Bilbo's mouth and dug his hands deeper into his hair.

 

 

"I love you, Master Burglar." Thorin moaned between kisses.

 

 

"And I love you, my King."


	6. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Before I go, goodbye."

Bilbo stood at the entrance to Thorin’s chambers, fist held up and ready to knock on the thick stone door. He had already said his goodbyes to the rest of the company and their families whom he had gotten to know in the past months while staying in Erebor. Bilbo had stuck around so long because a few weeks after the end of the Battle of the Five Armies, a massive snow storm had hit. The timing was most unfortunate, but it had been effective in keeping Bilbo and Gandalf from taking their leave back to the Shire. In fact, the Hobbit had wished for such a hindrance, though at the time he did not dream it would ever come to fruition. He almost felt bad, until he remembered that that was absurd. _As if someone up there would ever pay attention to the wishes of one Hobbit from the Shire…_

 

His stay in Erebor had extended past the snowstorm’s end seeing as he had all but committed himself to helping Balin and Ori in restoring the library. The cavernous space and its contents were nearly untouched, albeit a bit dusty. Apparently Smaug had not cared for ancient texts when he had a hoard of gold to lie upon.

 

In his months spent under the mountain, Bilbo devoured the words. After going so long without any form of literature other than Ori’s diary, he hadn’t realized just how hungry for written information he was. Though most of the texts on the expansive shelves were transcribed in Khuzdul, more than Bilbo could hope to read in a lifetime were in the common speech.

 

He poured over the texts for hours on end, and sometimes he was even joined by Thorin. How the Dwarf King had any time to sit and relax, Bilbo did not know. He was glad, though, and those quiet moments shared with Thorin became some of his most treasured. No words were spoken about what they felt for each other, and Bilbo found this discouraging. The Hobbit had hoped that after their shared words on Raven Hill, Thorin would know what he meant to him. Yet the Dwarf did not say anything that could even remotely be taken to mean anything more than acquaintanceship, so Bilbo did not either.

 

Time wore on, and eventually Gandalf was pressuring Bilbo to get a move on. The Hobbit found excuses for staying for a few weeks until the wizard began to get _really_ impatient and trailed behind Bilbo throughout the day, making sure that he was telling the truth, no doubt. It was quickly discovered that Bilbo was, in fact, _not_ telling the truth, and Gandalf announced that they would be leaving within two days.

 

Those two days passed by in a whirlwind of tearful goodbyes and gifts galore, until Bilbo didn’t know how he’d get all of his things back home. _Home._ The word had held so much meaning to the respectable Hobbit of the Shire, but to the Master Burglar it seemed to have lost its definition. For the first time in his life, Bilbo did not know where home was. He pictured his cozy Hobbit Hole with the round green door and all of his neighbors, he imagined the grand welcome that the rambunctious children would surely give him, thought of lazy afternoons in his garden, complete with breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, and supper. Yet somewhere deep inside him, he knew that while that had once been his home, it was no longer. Home, after all, is where the heart is, and Bilbo’s heart resided with these confounded Dwarves who, for some aberrant reason, had become his closest friends.

 

In the midst of all of the goodbyes, Bilbo could not help but notice that one Dwarf in particular had not been bothered to show his face. Bilbo knew that Thorin was a king and of course had duties far more important than wishing his burglar goodbye, but he had hoped that the Dwarf would at least make the time to visit him in the library as he always, always did. When he did not show, Bilbo could not say that he was surprised. He was, however, thoroughly disappointed.

 

In the back of his mind, Bilbo thought that the best thing to do would be to simply ask Balin to relay his sentiments to Thorin, but selfishly Bilbo could not do it. So it was with his heart about to burst out of his chest that the Hobbit stood in front of Thorin’s door, the _knock knock knock_ of his knuckles on the stone reverberating through his mind. After a moment he heard heavy footsteps from inside and braced himself for the conversation that was to come.

 

The door swung open to reveal a tired looking Thorin. Black circles sagged under the Dwarf’s pale eyes, and his hair and beard did not seem very well kempt. “Bilbo?” He questioned, surprise in his voice and written on his face.

 

The Hobbit took a deep breath and began, “Thorin, before I go… just… goodbye.” The words made the Dwarf flinch, and once they were out of his mouth, Bilbo found himself unable to stop. “I need you to know that… Well, that I… I’ve come to view you as a good friend. I hope you won’t be too busy to write me, though if you are I understand. Please know that I… I’ll miss you, and remember to eat. I know you don’t always have time, but I promise the mountain won’t fall apart while you take a break for ten minutes.”

 

Bilbo was embarrassing himself with his rambling, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to stop talking. He probably would have gone on forever, or at least until he made a right fool of himself, had Thorin not silenced him with his lips on the Hobbit’s own. Time seemed to stop, and Bilbo found himself utterly unable to think, let alone react to whatever was happening. Thorin seemed to notice his lack of response and pulled away abruptly, running a hand through his mussed up hair.

 

“I’m sorry, I – “ He stuttered, but Bilbo did not let him finish. He reached on tiptoes to press his lips roughly against Thorin’s, burying his hands in the Dwarf’s coat. Their sighs harmonized perfectly, and when they finally pried their mouths apart, they did not move to put any distance between their flush bodies.

 

“Bilbo…” Thorin murmured against his cheek, and the Hobbit shivered.

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Stay with me, ghivashel.”

 

Though he did not know the meaning of that last word, the first three sent elation coursing throughout his veins. He did not answer with words, but with another kiss, this one light and tentative.

 

“Always.” Bilbo murmured lovingly against Thorin’s warm lips.

 

Finally, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, I thought I would mention that I'm on Tumblr at kenaiskoda.tumblr.com, and that more of my writing can be found in the 'my writing' tag ❀◕ ‿ ◕❀


	7. Pining & Ale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: "Stop pining for each other already!"

Kíli thought he was going to lose his mind if his uncle and Mister Boggins didn’t pull themselves together and admit their undying love for one another pretty soon. As the entire company of Thorin Oakenshield sat around a long table in the kitchens of Erebor, ale in their mugs and food in their bellies, apparently Dwalin felt the same way.

 

At the head of the table sat Kíli’s uncle in all his sober majesty as he had never been one for alcohol, and across from the young Dwarf and his brother sat a drunken Bilbo, squished between an equally inebriated Bofur and Nori. Mister Boggins was probably one of the drunker friends sitting at the table, and he was certainly making no attempt to hide his flirtatious grins and winks that he sent Thorin’s way. Kíli looked on with glee as he watched Thorin’s face grow increasingly redder with every bit of eye contact he and the Hobbit made.

 

Across from the brown haired Dwarf sat Dwalin, and he did not appear to be too inebriated. It seemed he had had just enough ale to loosen his tongue, much to Kíli’s amusement. When Bilbo waggled his eyebrows ‘suggestively’ at Thorin, Dwalin lost it. “Oh, by Mahal’s beard, would you two stop pining for each other already!” The rough Dwarf exclaimed exasperatedly, apparently fed up with the ridiculous pair. Honestly, Kíli thought they were acting like children, and that was coming from _him._

 

The look on Thorin’s face was absolutely priceless as he registered his friend’s words, and the shock quickly turned to a scowl that, had it been directed at anyone besides Dwalin, would surely have turned them into a pile of ash. “I do not _pine_ for him.” Thorin protested with a growl, and a manic giggle came from the other end of the table.

 

“Well, I pine for him.” Bilbo announced proudly, his hand clinging to the handle of his mug. With that, the Hobbit stood and made his way on wobbly legs to Thorin’s chair.

 

“Bilbo,” Thorin half whispered, “what are you doing?”

 

Instead of answering, Mister Boggins bent down and pressed a flourishing kiss to Thorin’s lips. The Dwarf did not move; Kíli didn’t think he so much as _breathed_ before Bilbo pulled away with a smug smile on his face.

 

“There,” the Hobbit told, “now we don’t have to pine for one another.” Kíli could no longer contain the laugh that threatened to bubble out of his chest and he held his head in his hands as the snorts came bursting forth. He couldn’t wait to tell Bilbo all about this tomorrow.

 


	8. Is That a Cat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: "Um, is that a cat?"

Thorin could hardly believe that he had managed to get a room at the Lothlόrien Resort and Spa as a surprise for Bilbo, even if it was only for two nights. The place was nearly impossible to get into without paying an insane amount of money, but he had gotten it for a (relatively) reasonable price. And besides, Bilbo had been talking about the place endlessly ever since it was heard that the world renowned chef Galadriel Goldenwood was now working there as the head chef.

 

Thorin had waited an entire six months to wait to tell his husband about their little getaway, and now the weekend was finally upon them. When he surprised Bilbo that morning the man had positively beamed with excitement, and now that they were both all packed and ready to go, the only thing left was to wait on Fíli and Kíli to arrive. The two were getting paid to watch Frodo all weekend. Thorin knew it probably wasn’t one of his smartest ideas, but he didn’t know who else to ask. Dís was on a girl’s cruise with some of her friends, and while Frodo didn’t necessarily _dislike_ their other friends and family, he certainly liked Fíli and Kíli a lot more. And besides, his nephews had been ecstatic when he asked them to watch the boy.

                                                                                                                                               

Finally the doorbell rang, and he and Bilbo pushed out of their bedroom to answer the door, but were beat to it by their curly haired nephew.

 

“How are you, Frodo?” Kíli grinned as he picked the boy up and spun him around. Frodo squealed in answer.

 

“Thank you boys so much for watching him.” Bilbo thanked, and Thorin nodded his head to second that.

 

“Oh, it’s no problem! We’re going to have so much fun, right Frodo?” Fíli smiled, and the boy nodded as he sat on Kíli’s hip.

 

“Remember to lock the doors at night, and that Frodo’s bedtime is nine-thirty on weekends. And _no_ scary movies, got it? I don’t want a repeat of last time.” Thorin reminded, and his nephews bobbed their heads diligently.

 

“We know, uncle. Now go have fun! We’ll see you on Sunday.” Kíli answered and all but shoved his uncles out the door. Bilbo and Thorin hugged Frodo goodbye, assuring him that they would send them pictures, and with that they were off.

 

****

The weekend came and went entirely too quickly for both Thorin and Bilbo’s liking, but they both felt extremely blessed to have been able to spend some much needed relaxing, quality time together. When they pulled back up onto Bag End Road and saw the green door of their house, Thorin breathed a sigh of relief. At least his nephews hadn’t burnt the place down.

 

They parked in the driveway, pulled out their suitcases, and made their way to the door. Bilbo rang the doorbell and after a moment Thorin heard the click of the lock unbolting. They were greeted to Fíli’s easy smile, but Thorin could tell something was up. The man had been dealing with those looks since the boys were just learning how to walk.

 

“What did you do?” He asked, and Fíli frowned.

 

“It’s nice to see you too.” The young man replied sarcastically as he moved out of the doorway to let his uncles in. “How was your trip?”

 

“It was wonderful,” Bilbo answered, “but I must say it feels good to be back home.”

 

“Where are Frodo and Kíli?” Thorin questioned. Just as he said it, he heard a loud ‘meow!’ come from the living room. “Um,” he shot Fíli a look that could kill, “is that a cat?”

 

“Ah, yeah… You see, Frodo wanted to go to the pet store and they were just giving her away for twenty dollars, already spayed and with her shots and everything, so we kind of adopted her…” The blond explained sheepishly, and Thorin scowled at him. Bilbo on the other hand, made his way into the living room with a smile.

 

“I’ve been telling you that I wanted a cat, Thorin!” The shorter man grinned and disappeared around the corner.

 

“I told Frodo that if you didn’t want it, we’d take it and he could come over whenever he wanted to play with her.” Fíli told, but Thorin knew that he would be outnumbered in this.

 

As they rounded the corner, Thorin was met with the sight of his nephews and his husband playing with a skinny white cat with bright blue eyes. “Uncle Thorin!” Frodo exclaimed, and waved him over. “Come see Prim!”

 

“Prim?” Thorin asked with a raised eyebrow. “You named it after your aunt?”

 

“They have the same eye color.” Frodo answered with a shrug. “She really likes my shoelace.” The boy demonstrated by swiping the string in front of the animal’s face and she swiped at it with her paw. “Please can we keep her? Kí and Fí already showed me how to clean her litter box, and she’s really really nice! She only ripped up the toilet paper once!”

 

Thorin caught Bilbo’s hopeful side-glance and knew he couldn’t say no to two of his favorite people, especially when the object in question was a furry animal named after Bilbo’s cousin.

 

“Fine,” Thorin relented with a sigh, “we can keep her.” Frodo leaped up and hugged him tight, making Prim dash under the sofa to hide from the rambunctious boy. Thorin decided that there were definitely worse things in life than coming home to your loved ones and an extra cat, so he certainly wasn’t about to complain.


End file.
